be Mexicans, but they don't look like Mexicans, they don't act like
Mexicans, an' they ain't Mexicans."

"Take out what isn't, and you have left what is," said Obed.

"We'll soon see," said Ned.

A few minutes more and there could be no further doubt that the thirteen
were Texans or Americans. One rode a little ahead of the others, who
came on in an even line. They were mounted on large horses, but the man
in front held Ned's attention.

The leader was tall and thin, but evidently muscular and powerful. His
hair was straight and black like an Indian's. His features were angular
and tanned by the winds of many years. His body was clothed completely
in buckskin, and a raccoon skin cap was on his head. Across his shoulder
lay a rifle with a barrel of unusual length.

"Never saw any of them before," said the Panther. "By the great horn
spoon, who can that feller in front be? He looks like somebody."

The little band rode closer, and its leader held up his hand as a sign
of amity.

"Good friends," he said, in a deep clear voice, "we don't have very
close neighbors out here, and that makes a meeting all the pleasanter.
You are Texans, I guess."

"You guess right," said the Panther, in the same friendly tone. "An' are
you Texans, too?"